The Advocate
by Zergface
Summary: If we were to look back at Gamindustri, it's obvious that one sex is held in much higher regard than the other. The fact that this world will change, in such a state of mind, shouldn't be new or surprising. Prejudice has always been around. It was just a matter of law that kept half the world safe. Now that Gamindustri has changed, the most dangerous of places become a refuge.
1. Today, Gamindustri

"Big sis… are you sure we're doing the right thing?"

It's a friday night in Planeptune, and Neptune and Nepgear could hardly hear the sounds of the bubbling city around them. Up high in Planeptune's Basilicom, dubbed the 'NepTower' by the nation's Console Patron Unit, the leadership of the country was hard at work.

And by hard at work, that meant Neptune was dozing off on the couch while Nepgear painstakingly scribbled at a set of documents. Although they had settled down in the CPU living quarters, high above the streets below, the Goddesses had more to do than just sleep.

"Ugh…" Neptune groaned, flipping around on her back. Her forearm was pressed against her groggy eyes, protecting them from the city lights that flooded in from the tall windows that encompassed the walls. "Everyone else is passing this law, we might as well do it too, right?"

The younger of the two sat at a nearby table, her lavender hair tickling the paper beneath it.

"But Neptune," Nepgear abruptly sat up straight, lips curling inwards out of a repressed disgust. "Just because Noire does it doesn't mean you should do it, too. Did you even read the details of the bill?"

"Did I?" The Goddess of Neptune flopped her legs over the couch, letting the tips of her toes touch the ground. Rubbing her face with both hands, she continued. "Well, Nep Junior, I know you're young and all, but you'll eventually learn that sometimes other people do it best. Plus, I don't want this sexy 'bod to get all sweaty from thinking too hard."

She grinned mischievously at her younger sister, evoking a sigh from the recipient.

"I just don't think it's fair."

"Fair?" Neptune yawned, stretching far and wide with her arms. "Nothing on this world is fair. You know how much money Noire can spend on pudding? A lot! You know how much I can use?"

The older sister leapt off the couch, stepping beside Nepgear. She innocently locked her hands behind her back.

"Guess!"

Nepgear knew the answer, and something deep inside her wanted to answer. But on the other hand, she didn't really want to dignify that question, even if it was from her sister.

"Neptune, you already spent all your savings-"

"I HAVE NOTHING IN MAH SAVINGS!" Neptune pouted as angrily as she could, but she didn't appear menacing at all. Quickly changing attitudes, Neptune placed a thoughtful finger on her chin. "We should mess with the budget… I wonder if Histy would be okay with that."

"Big sis-" Nepgear started, raising a pen.

"Good idea!" Planeptune's serendipitous CPU exclaimed. "Let's sign that bill!"

Despite the Candidate's cries of protest, the senior sister leaned inwards, snatching the pen out of Nepgear's hand and scribbling a signature along the dotted line.

"There we go! Now, let's give it to Histy and socialize with Noire because we did what the cool kids do by doing what everyone else does!" Neptune wheezed, catching her breath as she paraded over to the room's exit.

"No…" Nepgear sighed, defeated. Sulking further into her chair, the youngling didn't quite feel the strength to pull herself out of her seat. "You didn't even read it…"

Neptune skipped out into the hall, humming a serene tune to herself. The very idea of impressing Noire made her jittery, a feeling that she nurtured and held close to her heart. She knew that the day that she would be accepted by any of the other CPUs, not just Noire, would be the day that people would regard her as a successful Goddess.

Not that it mattered much to the Lady of Planeptune.

In her hands, Neptune held the executive order that would define her reign.

* * *

Saturday came and the bill became law, and in law it became practice.

Sunday came and in practice the law had to be enforced.

The sun was still cresting over the horizon when Norman Dunn entered his boss's office. It reeked of cigar smoke, and the dull brown color that permeated across the furniture and wallpaper felt sickening to Norman's stomach.

Norman cowered before a wide desk. Behind it lie a heavy black chair seating a small woman, no older than 22. With a glint in her glasses and her hands interlaced, the employee shivered.

He tugged at his button-up shirt's collar, the whole room making him feel nauseating and crooked. A leather satchel was slung over his left shoulder, and he clung onto it with both hands. His fingers grew sticky from sweat, and he only noticed it when he ran a hand through his long, shaggy hair.

"Hi, it's me. You… wanted to see me?" Norman tentatively asked, a wave of uncertainty washing over him like the sweat that clung to his socks.

"Yeah." She sighed, looking up at his face. "You enjoy the work here?"

The man frowned, his grip on the satchel loosening.

"What are you suggesting?" He pressed the question, his voice brimming with anxiety. "I know the pay isn't the best, but I'm fine where I am. I'm not asking for any recognition, just… let me keep my job…"

The boss smirked, reclining in her seat.

"You're not being laid off, don't worry." She reassured him, her smile leveling out. "But I'm not sure if you heard the news. I know we're a non-profit organization, but the law extends to us as well."

"Is it-"

"It is." The boss cut him off, and she sighed. Even people who lived under a rock fell prey to the wave of change sweeping Gamindustri.

It didn't come as a surprise to anyone- society was always like this. The only difference was that stigma was now becoming law.

"I saw it coming, Mr. Dunn. Ever since it came to Lowee, I knew times were changing. Although I am a genius," Norman's boss paused, fanning her own ego. "It doesn't take an idiot to see Neptune falling to peer pressure."

"So what does this mean for the organization?" Norman frowned.

"I don't want to fire our male employees, even if we're supposed to. You're a good man, Norman," She boldly proclaimed. "I don't want to fire any employees. Especially since training takes too long, and we don't have anyone to fill your place yet."

"That's reassuring…" Norman muttered.

"Thing is, there's a few loopholes in the law. We can keep you as long as you don't come into contact with women. That means I'm sending you out to the countryside."

She subtly pulled an N-Gear out from under the desk and placed it on the table.

"Take a look at this." She clamored, fiddling with the device. She opened up a map application and nudged it across the smooth surface, right towards a reluctantly approaching Norman.

The boss took a deep breath, speaking as if she owned the world. "This town is smack-dab right in the middle of nowhere. Literally! It's not called the Badlands for nothing."

"The Badlands…" Norman groaned in fear, clutching his satchel tighter.

The very thought of the place brought dread to his head. The man knew it as the land where Lowee, Lastation and Planeptune's borders all touched, a wide stretch of land in the mountains that had a reputation for being beyond the law. Not much was known about the place, as the roads were terrible and all the cell towers in the area were too ruined to send signals out of the Badlands.

It was like it's own lawless land, like a wild west of Gamindustri run by warlords and fascists. Well, maybe not fascists. Maybe.

The last time a nation tried to set up a modern cell tower in the Badlands, the project ended up abandoned due to constant raids by warlords and monsters alike.

"You'll be sent here." She pointed at the screen. "Wel Zelevas. There's a train that will take you there in two hours if everything goes well, and if things go well, you'll be offering our services in a place that no one dares to enter. It'll be good for us... and good for the locals."

"I've never heard of that place…" Norman whimpered.

"Doesn't matter. Either you go or you lose your job. I know that Leanbox has a band of Feds' whose sole purpose is to round up dissidents like you. So if you don't go, or refuse to quit, I'm going to have to call up the Basilicom. Tell them you aren't complying with the law."

"The law…"

"We're not a private organization, Dunn." The boss leaned in, squinting at Norman. "This is a national, state-run service. If you don't comply, then I'm going to have to turn you in. And I wouldn't want to do that."

In Norman's eyes, something told him she would be just fine with turning him in to the law enforcement.

On one hand, he loved his job. He didn't want to quit because of some obscure law that was just passed. But on the other hand, if he wanted to stay, he had to move far away from the place he grew up.

He sure as hell didn't want to go to the Badlands. But where else would he go? Job hunting, again? He hated it in the past, and now that he found a job that he enjoyed, he sure wasn't going back.

"I guess I'll go." He shrugged, giving his boss a defeated look.

"That's good. We can't be a national organization if we don't cover the whole nation, so the fact you're heading out there is a good thing." She nodded as a matter of fact, pulling the N-Gear in close.

"Pack your bags." She slid a train ticket over the table. "This is for you. Mr. Norman Dunn, you've got one hour left in Planeptune."

* * *

Norman quickly realized, upon reaching his apartment, that there wasn't much for him to pack. A backpack full of clothes and a handheld gaming console were the only things he decided he would need.

He thought of leaving a message on the table for his ailing mother, and he did so quickly. Although his father was long gone, he hoped she wouldn't feel lonely at home by herself.

The man stepped out of the apartment, not thinking twice as the door clicked behind him. As men couldn't own property, and he didn't have a wife, the apartment was granted to him by his workplace.

 _Having a government job has its benefits,_ Norman thought to himself as he stepped down the hall. Heading towards the stairs, Norman found his backpack feeling awkward, especially since it was bouncing against his satchel, while he passed by a pair of women. They stared at him like he was crazy. _Benefits that run out._

Norman hustled down the stairs and in no time he left the building, entering a world full of the smell of diesel and Purple Progress. Funny, that progress smelled kinda like cheap pastries and plastic.

Catching the next bus that crossed his path, Norman Dunn waited until all the women boarded first, then filed in behind them. The fare was raised to a whopping 700 credits yesterday, something that made life unlivable without a wife or girlfriend to support you.

Norman tapped his credit card on the scanner, paying the fare with ease. He smiled at the bus driver, who cordially smiled back. The driver, who was a man, was lucky to have his job.

The code was obscure in its 'do's and 'don'ts' in terms of who was lucky and who wasn't, with lots of grey space left to the discretion of local authorities.

As Norman shuffled to the back of the bus, the stampering and campering of feet led him to look back.

A woman around his age, maybe a little younger, climbed aboard just before the doors closed behind her. Her blue coat seemed a size too big for her, and her hands could hardly extend her credit card when she tried to hold it out from under her sleeves. She tapped the scanner, with it paying the standard 100 credit fare, and she hobbled down the aisle behind Norman.

She had smiled at the driver, but the driver didn't smile back.

Norman kept walking down the aisle, almost falling when the bus started moving. Luckily he reached the back of the bus before stumbling, as he knew it was considered impolite to extend your hand towards women as a single man. At the worst, he knew of cases when it was branded as an attempted rape or molestation.

Norman sighed as he sat, using his arms to pull his backpack onto his lap and settle down into a comfortable position. He scooted in some more, towards the window seat. There he had a good view of Planeptune life from the position of an observer. Not that he was excluded from that life or anything, but to him, it was always interesting to see the world move without him.

A grunt was heard to his side, and Norman swept his head over in the direction of the sound. The woman had sat down next to him!

Her long brown hair covered her face until she brushed it aside, revealing a set of emerald green eyes. She huffed, probably still tired from catching the bus.

There was something about those eyes that caught Norman in a trance. Unable to move, and with his mind fixated on the girl's eyes, he completely forgot all mannerisms. He knew that staring too much would be impolite, even in the times when he was a child, but right now he couldn't care less.

The way they moved, the way those eyebrows fluttered up and down with every one of her breaths…

Was this love at first sight? Norman didn't want to believe it. He wasn't a believer in stupid things like that.

"Hey," She started after having given him a funny look for the last several minutes. "You alright in there?"

Norman shook his head around, gathering his senses.

"Yes." He looked down. "Yes! Yes, yes I'm fine." He looked back into her eyes. "How are you?"

"I'm… a little tired… but I'm fine…" The girl blinked, and Norman could've gasped at the sight.

"Ah, fine, and you?" He said without thinking, then realized that he messed up big-time. "Oh, I mean, my name is Norman! A wonder to meet you."

"Yeah… I'm IF."

 _Truly_ , he thought, _a wondrous name_.

"I'm heading out to the Badlands!" He exclaimed, quickly realizing that he was getting too excited. "For a job."

"Weird." She sighed with her eyes closed, shaking her head in disbelief. "But then again, I'm doing the exact same thing."

"Really!?" The man couldn't believe his luck. Did he really just seal the deal with IF? Was he… no… he was going with this girl to the Badlands. Maybe he wouldn't be alone out there after all.

"That's right." She nodded, inching away from him, towards the aisle. Now, why would she do that? "I'm with the Guild, and apparently there's a lot of good work up there. Have you been there before?"

"No, no. No, I haven't." Norman shook his head. "This is my first and hopefully my last time. I heard so little about the place that it's almost scary."

"It's no place for men who are scared of small stuff." IF smiled for the first time since she entered the bus. "Why are you going there, anyways?"

"Like I said. Work."

"Okay… what do you do?"

"I don't really like talking about it." Norman sighed, grinning nervously.

"That's cool. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." IF looked down the aisle, losing interest in Norman.

"Well, I might as well tell you." He fussed. "I'm a operator at the National Suicide Lifeline."

"You- what?" IF raised an eyebrow, turning back towards the man. "That's not something you hear every day."

He nodded. "I'm one of the only guys there. I mean, the pay isn't the best and all, but we get a lot of calls and texts. It's one of the things that makes me feel like I'm doing something with my life, as I can't fight or do physical work. All the medical jobs aren't available for guys like me, and I'd rather die than get an office job. This was the best choice."

"So you're heading out to the Badlands…" She trailed off, thinking. "They don't get coverage out there, don't they? I guess it makes a lot of sense."

"Yeah." Norman nodded solemnly, looking out the window. They looked like they were getting close to the train station, but they'd be able to keep talking on the train. The trees of one of Planeptune's smaller parks waved in the wind brought on by the cars passing by, and in the distance doors of shops opened and closed in tandem.

"It must be hard." IF said, a little quieter than before.

"No, not as hard as fighting. I know that when I get nervous on the phone, or feel jittery in my belly, I know that there's a hundred fighters out there having it a lot more stressful than I have it." Norman paused. "So that helps, just knowing that what I do isn't that hard in comparison."

"I don't know." The Guild Member sighed. "A friend of mine has all sorts of trouble with her sister, and sometimes she talks to me about it. She's not suicidal or anything, don't take this the wrong way, but just hearing what she has to say makes me stressed. She's got a crazy sister."

"What's her name?" The Operator asked innocently.

"Eh, it's a secret." IF nodded firmly. "But they're both people with a lot of responsibility, and I wouldn't want to say anything bad about them."

"I completely understand."

His words faded away as the bus came to a sudden stop, catching him and his distracted seat-mate off guard.

" _Welcome to Planeptune Central Station. This is the last stop of this bus, and thank you for riding with the Planept-T."_

The intercom buzzed momentarily, prompting everyone to rise out of their seats and to shuffle to the front.

IF led the way as the two filtered into the morass of people. Careful not to seem impolite or out of place, Norman let IF lead him out of the bus and into the station.

As he left, he smiled at the bus driver, who looked distraught.

Distracted, and not looking up at all, the man had his arms folded over the wheel and his face dug into them. Something wasn't right. Was he okay?

"Sir?" Norman politely questioned, holding onto a railing behind him. As he was the last passenger to leave the bus, there was no one behind him. And since his train was leaving in almost half an hour, he had time.

"Oh… oh!" The driver shot up, sitting up straight. "Sorry. We've reached our final destination." He finished his sentence with finality, as if he wanted Norman to leave.

"So we have." The man with the backpack sighed, briefly rubbing his nose. "My name's Norman, do you mind sharing yours?"

"Not really. A pleasure, Norman." The driver looked him right in the eyes. "Call me Kent."

"Do you like working as a driver?" Norman asked.

"I wish I still were." He sighed.

"Something happen? I know that they're laying off Federally employed workers…"

"Yeah." The driver sighed, looking straight ahead. "Ten years in this unforgiving seat. All so some dofus in the Basilicom can kick me out because I'm a man."

"It's gotta hurt, working for so long only to get laid off." Norman looked down, feeling sympathy for the driver. He had nearly lost his job as well.

Kent, the driver, looked up with nothing in his eyes. Sighing, he continued. "Some people come, some people go. We're a dying race, Norman. Next thing you know, they'll kick us out to the Gamindustri Graveyard. Like the Goddesses of old, forgotten and discarded."

"I'm not arguing with you."

"Well, shit." Kent placed a hand on his forehead. "With my wife gone, there's no way I'll be able to take care of the kids anymore. Not anymore."

He turned to Norman, almost getting angry. "Don't you have a train to catch?"

"Hey, guy!" Another person was calling out to him from outside the bus. IF, Norman assumed. "We've only got five minutes, so get moving or I'm leaving without you!"

"Yeah, yeah!" Norman stammered, nodding at Kent. "It was nice talking and all, and I hear how bad things are going right now." He inched towards the exit of the bus.

"Thanks." Kent grunted, turning away from Norman. "That was nice. I'd exchange numbers if my cell was any good."

"Likewise." Norman nodded, stepping out of the bus. "You take care!"

The doors closed behind him, and both and the Phone Operator and the Guild Member were lost in the concrete world of the train station. Surrounded by people but lost by themselves, their destination lie far, far away.

And for a just second, Norman didn't feel scared of the future.

* * *

 **AN:**

 **Although there are other things I could be writing, this is what I've cooked up in my head for a while now.**

 **I'm sorry in advance for slow updates, as real life is kicking ass right now. School, volunteering, games... school...**

 **With that said, I hope you enjoyed the premise that the first chapter brought! I've noticed that in the Nep-verse, men are never seen or noteworthy, which makes me think their society is a lot different in comparison to ours- as it probably is.**

 **This story will also be heavily inspired by things in the discord server- link in my profile if you want it.**

 **The world of the Badlands, and the juxtaposition when seen in conjunction with Planeptune, will be fun.**

 **I hope you drop reviews and follows! Favs are good too- but lets wait until things pick up until you decide this is worth it. But those three mean a lot, more than you'd think!**

 **With that said, thanks for reading!**


	2. Welcome to WeZ

The first thing that Norman noticed when the train started moving was how empty the train really was.

He guessed that it was normal for a train going to the Badlands to be a little unpopular among most people. What's there to do out there, anyways?

Aside from IF and Norman himself, the only other people on board were sketchy guys. Sketchy because they all carried large sacks, one of which blatantly had a rifle's barrel sticking out from it.

Norman and IF sat towards the rear of the train, which by normal train standards, was really small. Only two passenger cars, and upon a curiously close inspection, Norman noticed that the windows were stuck in a closed position. Not just that, but above every window was a button that would signal an emergency.

Why would that be needed?

After settling down in their seats, the two pseudo-strangers found time to breathe. Running late, they were forced to rush onto the train.

The entire locomotive was the very definition of antiquated. The walls were lined with brown panels, and the seats were stiff and uncomfortable. The ceiling bore exposed wires, nuts and bolts, many of which seemed in desperate need of repair.

Once again, Norman took the window seat and kindly allowed IF to slide in after him. It was more of a subconscious thing than anything, and neither of them cared once their tushes made contact with the atrociously made seats.

With his bag on his lap and his heart beating faster than ever, Norman took in a deep breath. The train gave off the smell of an old factory, complete with the odor of machine grease and aging wood.

As the engines churned and purred to life, Norman felt a gentle tug backwards and looked outside. The station eased into memory as the chugging of wheels and the feeling of motion faded together. Streets and ubiquitous rooftops were all unanimously swept into the blur that became urban Planeptune.

As the speed picked up, the train chugged out of the city and tore through the countryside.

He had never gone far from the capital city, and the few times that he did were brief and were never as lonesome as he felt now. After all, he never left the roads or went hiking in his life. He was the very definition of a city-dweller, a sheltered man who never felt the need to take a walk in the woods, or even the park, for that matter.

The only things that would concern him was getting food for tomorrow and keeping his job. In this climate, those were the best things he could hope for.

Norman felt himself jerked out of his thoughts by a nudge on the shoulder.

He turned his head, hoping that IF wasn't trying to mess with him or something.

"Yeah?" He questioned, noticing that the girl had her eyes facing front, glued onto the group of men in front of them.

Beforehand, Norman couldn't get a good look at them. Now that he caught his breath and was feeling alright, he took a moment to check them out.

Strange… from what he could see along the aisle, they didn't seem to have a care in the world for fashion or looks in general. Were they trying to make a statement or something? Cargo pants and jeans weren't typical for guys to wear, and cargo pants were usually reserved for people in work clothes- not for the comfort of a train ride.

As jeans were considered girly clothes alongside everything else short of khakis, the fact that they really didn't care was a bit jarring for the Phone Operator. Did they just not give a damn? Or were they disconnected with how things were supposed to go, and just didn't know that they didn't look good?

"What do you think they're up to?" The girl with the emerald eyes asked a question that no one knew the answer to.

After thinking briefly, Norman replied. "Maybe they're trying to make a statement."

"That can't be right." IF placed a hand on the empty seat in front of them, her falling sleeve exposing a bit of her forearm. "I'd bet that they live out there. Notice the guns in those bags, those aren't the kinds of things you'd get your hands on in your average weapon shop back home."

"You make a point." Norman nodded. Although it wasn't needed in his line of work, he made himself familiar with firearms and their designs. "Plus, that'd explain the messed up cosmetics. After all, it makes sense that they wouldn't know what's normal… and how redneck they look."

"You think they know that they look like idiots?" IF scoffed, shifting in her seat.

"Your guess is as good as mine."

For a while, the two rode on in silence, and Norman felt a bit uncomfortable by how little he knew of the Guild Member beside him. Along a tugging in his chest to learn more, he was fascinated by what her habits would be, or what she loved to do in her free time.

That didn't mean that he liked her in a love-esque way, right? It was normal to want to know more about people that you're around. Especially since they might be around each other for a long while, it'd be best to get to know one another. Right?

He had to talk carefully, or else he'd be branded as a pervert- and there was no going back from that. He knew that from firsthand experience.

"I bet they're ruthless servants of a warlord, looking to get cash for kills." IF nodded firmly, leaning back in her unorthodox seat.

"You think so?" Norman Dunn asked, looking over the seats in front of him. "Maybe they're just a band of traveling musicians with guns for protection."

IF stifled a laugh, looking in his direction. "That's stupid. Just look at them, they're obviously out to fight."

"Just because they have guns and a funny fashion sense doesn't make them automatically a killer. But I see where you're coming from, that's what we'd associate with killers or crazies. Anyone weird." Norman raised his eyebrows. "Like them."

"I don't want to say that assuming is always wrong. In my line of work, it's helped me to trust my gut based on appearances." IF asserted, feeling a bit offended. Was he trying to challenge her?

"Well… when you put it that way…"

"Eh." IF huffed. "I used to see the name ' _Norman_ ' as the stereotypical name that a normal person would have. You know, ' _Norman Normal_ ', or something like that. I had the feeling that you were just another perverted asshole looking to mess with me… but maybe not. Who knows."

The man smiled, glad to have made her think.

"My last name is Dunn, by the way."

"Dunn? That's… alright." IF rolled her eyes. "Better than ' _Normal_ ', all jokes aside."

"Yeah. Guess so." Norman felt cheeky on the inside, but held back a full-on grin. "Hey, do you know anything about this _Wel Zelevas_? I think you know more than me, but all I know is that the Badlands are the untamed plains and mountains, filled with enough monsters to overwhelm a CPU."

The girl shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. You know what?" IF shifted in her seat, reaching a hand for one of the cell phones on her jacket. "I'll do some research and get back to you. We've got two hours, right? Might as well use them."

"Sure." Norman said quietly, tilting his head towards the window.

The world was black, and he knew that they were in a tunnel. He hadn't been looking outside a ton, so maybe they were in the side of a mountain. Maybe they were under a lake. Were they underground?

Norman didn't know, and after a moment of hesitation he shut his eyes.

* * *

"Blanc…"

Rom stood with bent knees and her hands interlocked before her. The vastness of her older sister's workspace never intimidated her; the Basilicom of Lowee was always massive, even the old one before it was ruined.

She stood in the center of the long rug that ran from the titanic double doors all the way to Blanc's workstation. The entire room was the size of a grand hall, with huge curtains draped over windows as tall as the ornate pillars beside them.

The CPU candidate took in a shaky breath, hoping that she wouldn't incite her sister's inconsistent rage. As the Goddess of Lowee was turned away, towards her computer, there was no way to see the emotions on her face.

However, the telltale echoes of gentle weeping swept down the halls like the trickling of water, and it all flowed into Ron's listening ears. In silence, everything was audible.

"Blanc…" Rom repeated, hoping to get her sister's attention.

There was a sniffle, then Blanc straightened her back upright. Her hat was off her head, something unusual for the CPU.

"Are you okay?" The little one hesitantly asked.

There was silence for a time, and Blanc didn't move an inch.

"I noticed you were sad… that's all-"

"I'm not sad!" Blanc snapped, hands curling into fists. "What's happened, happened. We move on."

"Okay…?" Rom murmured, tentatively stepping back. What was she talking about?

"Where's your sister?" The CPU demanded sharply, back still turned.

"The bathroom, she's taking a while and I don't want to be bored, so I came here…" The CPU Candidate's voice slowed down. "Are you writing again?"

The older sister waved her hand over the keyboard, rapidly clicking as a tab closed. The screen swapped from a notepad to a newspage, and Blanc shifter in her seat. Out of the corner of her eye she could see her sister.

"No." Blanc's voice stung. "Where's Mina? You can help her in her office while you wait for Ram."

"But... you're my sister…" Rom said, crestfallen. After a pause, she sighed. Her voice shrunk to a whisper, but Blanc could still hear it. "I miss the Castellans. They'd never talk to us like that."

"Those guys?" The Goddess of Lowee irked. She spun her chair around fully, allowing the younger sister to meet her eye-to-eye. "That was too long ago… I thought I told you to forget."

Calming herself down, Blanc kept her voice low. Something within herself stirred, forcing her body to shake. Why did she shudder? She wasn't cold. She wasn't scared. Was she disgusted with herself?

"Rom, we've moved past those days." Blanc remembered her writing, and shook her head at herself. The younger one didn't see a thing- at least, that's what she hoped. "We live here now, in the capital. I don't see why you won't let it go."

"Why did we let them go?"

The question ripped open the scab on Blanc's heart. Her mind traveled to the pages on the computer, the words feeling more real than ever.

For a moment she lost herself in this world, feeling herself taken aback to another time. She knew she was still sitting in her chair, and she knew that she wasn't in danger. But the smell of mud and fire, blood and snow, all the sights and sounds bewildered her.

With wide eyes, the Basilicom was gone. Helpless to move or think, Blanc saw the blood-stained, snow-covered, forested hills of southern Lowee.

Her chair was frozen in time, her breath feeling as ragged as when she stood with her hammer in this exact spot.

She couldn't breathe. Her skin crawled, her forehead felt sticky and hot, her chest contracted and pinched, and her throat felt as dry as sandpaper. She wanted to stop thinking, stop seeing and stop believing, but all she could do was choke on nothing.

It was a tremendous battle, one fought between the women loyal to Lowee and the men they had ousted. Outnumbered and backed into a corner, the men titled ' _Castellans_ ' refused to lie down their weapons. The Goddess, the one that personally appointed each one to their role as guardian of the Basilicom, had run out of patience.

And that lack of patience was what haunted the CPU during her sleepless nights.

"-Blanc…?"

"Hey! Meanie, you in there?!"

What?

Blanc blinked and saw herself standing, legs and arms tense enough to snap her muscles in half. In front of her was Ram, standing protectively in front of her blue-themed sister.

Where was she? Was this real? What was she doing? Oh no…

"Rom… Ram…" Blanc breathed deeply, shaken out of her mind. "I…"

The Goddess fell back into her chair, almost shaking.

"Rom was almost in tears! Why were you yelling at her like that?" Ram shouted in defense of her sister, stepping forwards.

"I… I wasn't yelling…" Blanc murmured, trying to remember if she had been yelling. She could've sworn she wasn't...

"Geez." Ram huffed, turning back to her sister. "C'mon Rom, let's get out of here. There's ice cream in the kitchen…"

Their voices faded as Blanc phased them out. The two twins left the room through the giant double doors, leaving the door ajar.

She wrote to forget, she wrote to vent her frustrations and to keep her feelings to herself. The guilt became overbearing far too often, and there was no one she could talk to. Sometimes, Blanc thought, it'd be best to just stop feeling. Maybe, she thought, she would find a way to make her nation so great it would never need her again.

"Lady Blanc."

Huh?

The Goddess of Lowee looked up, blinking twice. She had been so engrossed in her thoughts that Mina crept up to her. Her oracle, Mina, stared at her with those cyan eyes of her's. Every time the caretaker breathed, her long blue hair waved in a wind that didn't exist.

"You yelled at the twins again." Mina spoke calmly, with a concerned voice that Blanc never heard from anyone else. "Please stop denying it. You need to see a therapist."

"I'll be fine." The Goddess gripped the edges of her seat. "I just…"

"Keep seeing things? Blanc," Mina started pleading, holding out her hands. "You've seen some traumatic things. There's no shame in getting help."

"I'll…" Blanc looked away. On one hand, she knew that there was something wrong with her. On the other hand, she couldn't let _anyone_ know that she had so many problems. Who could she trust? "I'll…"

"You should spend some time away from home." Mina recommended, stepping back with an appropriate smile. "I can keep the young ones safe."

Blanc sighed. "Thanks, Mina. I may take up your advice."

"You should." The oracle retorted. "You need to take a break. Go to Planeptune or Leanbox, spend time at the beach."

Blanc noticed that Mina intentionally did not recommend Lastation, which made her smile. They both knew how polluted Lastation's popular beaches were in comparison to the other nations, and that subtle, insignificant fact made her more happy than she had been all day.

The Goddess nodded, steadying herself in her seat.

"I'll be going on vacation, Mina. Thank you."

* * *

"So," Norman was roused from a very comforting nap by the sound of IF's voice. With his cheek pressed against the seat's hard surface, lifting it up made it burn red like a blush. "Dunn, this Wel Zelevas has a lot more to it than I thought."

Norman, unused to being called by his last name, grimaced as he rubbed his eyes. IF took this as a cue to keep talking, and talk she did.

"This place was rumored to be around during the time of Tari. At least, there's a wall around the place that's been dated to be that old. It's in terrible disrepair now, but it still marks a clear border between the wilderness and the town to this day. The place is on the side of a shallow hill in the mountains, and that makes it a popular adventuring location because of the amazing views."

Norman scoffed, smiling. "Trivia is nice and all, but what do we have to pay attention to?"

"Well…" IF hummed, scrolling with a thumb. "Because of the train that runs to the town, it's given credit for being on the front lines of Planeptune's final frontier. Even then, they aren't given supplies or federal orders often at all. That makes Wel Zelevas, or shorted to Wez, the most autonomous place in Planeptune. I was looking at this forum, and they called the place it's own self-sufficient, independent city-state. Huh... because of their isolation, they even have their own internet TLD."

"So," Norman sighed, scooting closer to IF in an effort to peer at her screen. "It's going to be different."

"In a nutshell." The Guild Member lowered her phone, tired. "But it's not just the laws and customs, they have their own militia and government. It's a dirt poor place, but they have a handle on things."

"That's good. We'll be able to rent a hotel room or something though, right?"

"I was about to say," IF smirked. "There's no hotels or luxury places you'd find back in Planeptune. From what I've read, we're going to have to ask around for help. I'm thinking we head to the Town Hall, get ourselves situated, then go our own separate ways from there. That'll be easy."

Norman was a bit disheartened to hear that they'd have to part ways, but he guessed it had to happen sometime. But so soon...

"We should be okay though..." He asked, anxiety dripping from his voice. "Right?"

IF opened her mouth to speak, but paused. She wasn't certain of anything anymore, not when she was so far from home. But she had to look strong in front of a guy.

"Probably."

* * *

The sun blinded Norman as he stepped out of the train, IF in tow. With a hand covering his eyes, the man struggled to adjust to the new world before him.

He set his hand down, letting his feet take him further down the creaking train platform.

He blinked, and for a moment, he couldn't believe his eyes.

On one hand, the place was simply spectacular.

No skyscrapers, no big lights, no cars, just a wide expanse of nothingness. Flanked by trees and bushes, a wide dirt road looked more like a long clearing than a path. It extended into a massive field, one that he couldn't begin to fathom from his position as a speck of nothingness.

From the corners of his eyes, Norman could tell that the platform was the only truly flat surface around. Wildly taking in his immediate surroundings, the man found himself on a side of a shallow hill that seemed endless.

Because of that natural inclination, even if it was tiny, his field of view lie unobstructed for miles on end.

In the distance, past the faint outlines of rural houses and shacks, Norman spotted forested hills and snow capped mountains, a constant reminder that Lowee was not that far away.

Far to his right was a towering mountain, one with a gushing river running down its side.

To his left, Norman saw the hill finally come to an end- but that was miles away. Forests, hills, settlements and lakes could be made out, draped across the horizon like a quilt. Like the backdrop on an ink-stained canvas, the world of green dictated this world.

Even further to his left, just touching the horizon, were the signs of a continentally expansive desert, one marked by blistering heat and plateaus that, to a city dweller like Norman, looked like skyscrapers.

But not a single sign of human development marked any of the landscape, at least past the hillside. That land belonged to no one.

Was this Wel Zelevas? It couldn't be… he heard so many bad things about the Badlands that this land of natural wonder just couldn't be true.

It smelled like nature- the green wind and the whispering of pine, the scent of sap, and the faint trace of train exhaust. It was such a difference from the smell of the city, as the air in the mountains felt so crisp and clear.

"Ready to keep moving?" IF stepped out in front of Norman, teetering on the edge of the platform. Her right foot threatened to step down, onto the grass below. The bushes, grass and trees seemed so inviting.

"Yeah." Norman nodded, tugging on his backpack.

As he stepped forwards, he felt his hair rustle from the wind, the buckles of his satchel whistle, and the world turn- all under the midday sun.

* * *

 _ **AN:**_

 **I do want to say, off the bat, that this is a story, not a self-fulfillment pile of dung.**

 **And when I say that, I mean that things will be taken at a story pace, not like an action movie. If there's any confusion concerning rhetorical themes and devices, ask and I'll clarify it in an Author's Note. Although it takes away from the ' _feels_ ', I want to do my best to clear bombastically founded thoughts. **

**Tl;dr: _if confused about stuff, ask_**

 **But the first 3 arcs have been planned, and uploads might be a lot faster than I anticipated.**

 **Thanks for reading, and especially thanks for all the Favs and Follows- they mean a ton!**


	3. Uh Oh

The town of Wel Zelevas was as run-down as Norman thought it would be.

Each step took him deeper into a maze of unpaved roads and shantytown-esque buildings, with many of the walls being made of a plain concrete, brick and wood.

There was no color on any walls, and the only color to be seen could be seen in graffiti covering the rare street sign. Paint was a luxury, as IF would have told him.

The architecture reminded him of a rural Lastation village, with many of the houses built around functionality rather than beauty. Norman heard that the place was a safe haven for refugees and asylum seekers, and it was evident in the Planeptunian and Loweean hints into building design.

Slanted roofs were taken from the Land of Purple Progress, and the brick craftsmanship of the foundation were hints at Loweean influence.

IF made it clear that they'd have to get to the town hall and find themselves a place to sleep through the municipal government.

The problem was, they had no idea where to look. At first, Norman suggested that they look for the tallest building in sight, but it quickly became apparent that all the buildings were around the same height. No structure was taller than two stories tall, with the exceptions being carefully placed watchtowers soaring like giants in a crowd.

They walked aimlessly down derelict alleyways and through the middles of crowded streets. Norman's mind dawned upon the realization that the more they explored, the more they felt lost.

People paid them no heed as they carried buckets over their shoulders and jerrycans at their sides, chatting aimlessly as they walked with a purpose to perform their job as a repairman or farmer, among many other small-town tasks.

Their clothing reflected their day-to-day lives. Women wearing long skirts sat at their porches, their fingers interlocked with needles and clothes. Men in overalls looked up from old furnaces, catching a glimpse of the children frockling in a neaby stream.

To IF and Norman, nearly all of them were ugly, and would still have been ugly if dressed otherwise. It was curious how oblivious to appearances they looked. No one batted an eye at their primitive overalls drab colors, and yet, stares told Norman that he was the ugly one.

Funny, he thought, what complete separation from civilization does to a person.

But that didn't stop Norman from thinking of how quaint the place was and wondering how it got its reputation for being a madhouse of lunatics and criminals.

On the side of the road, IF and Norman found themselves stopping to catch their breath. Each of them reached into their bags to take a sip from their water bottles. Norman brought his head back and held his plastic bottle up to the sun, finishing off what was left inside. Feeling relieved, he capped the bottle and returned it to his satchel.

IF wielded a metal canteen which reflected the daylight into Norman's eyes. She briskly took a swig before returning it to her bag, making sure it was closed tightly.

She glanced over at Norman, who was caught staring.

"What?" She asked with a hint of playfulness. She brushed her windswept hair out from her eyes.

"Nothing!" Norman looked away, towards the street. He stared at the mountains past the street and over the houses, pausing as he discovered he could make out the shapes of trees on the slope. "I was just looking at your bottle, that's all."

"Oh, this?" IF held it out in front of her. She never really paid much attention to the tiny thing. "What about it?"

"It's… metal." Norman couldn't help but feel embarrassed at his stupidity. Why'd he draw attention to something so dumb?

"Yeah. I got it at a really nice equipment store in Lastation. They sell these things saying they'll never break or dent, and so far, that's been proven true." She smiled, gripping the bottle tighter. Norman wondered what was going through her mind."Numerous times."

The man nodded in agreement, looking at the building beside them. It looked like many of the other buildings out in the town, with a brick foundation and wooden sidings. The windows were drawn, making it impossible to look inside, but there was a sign posted above the door.

In faded letters, it read: Wel Zelevas! The Clinic.

Beneath the words was a hastily sketched hollow Red Crystal.

"The Clinic." The man slowly nodded, contemplating the name. "That's…"

"Bland?" IF blurted, stepping into the street. As they had only seen a single car in the whole town, the roads were more or less designed for foot traffic.

"Yeah." Norman agreed, eyeing the red crystal. He wondered if it was the only clinic in town. "Bland."

"You think they know where the Town Hall is?" IF asked, not waiting for an answer as she approached the door.

* * *

"Probably. Why are you asking me? We might as well ask."The Guild Member pushed open the door with one hand, the loosely-fitting handle rattling from overuse. The interior was dark and foreboding, with the only light coming from the doorway. The shadows of the newcomers waved across wall-mounted shelves and a long reception table in the back of the room. Old, creaky furniture made up a waiting area, all of the shabby pieces looking unsafe to sit in.

The door thumped shut behind them, trapping the two in a room that smelled like stale ale, expired dentistry equipment, and most startlingly- dried blood.

The place was quiet, save for the faint sound of buzzing coming from behind the reception counter. As the sound was muffled behind a door, it just seemed like a computer's hum to the urban dweller.

IF grimaced at the smells, tugging at the edges of her sleeves. She looked behind herself, towards Norman Dunn.

"You think anyone's home?" She breathed heavily, then waved her palm before her eyes. She hated the smell.

"I mean, the door was open, so…" Norman muttered, unwilling to walk deeper into the seemingly haunted structure.

"I'll just, uh…" IF stepped to the reception counter, eyeing the various nick-knacks and trinkets piled across it. "Ring a bell?"

The Guild Member reached a hand for a bell atop the table, and Norman's jittery eyes spotted a blade sticking out from her other sleeve.

IF flicked at the bell, and in the silence, the metal was as loud as a bomb.

The gentle ringing it made echoed throughout the room, lingering in Norman's ears for what felt like an eternity.

The humming stopped.

Norman's muscles tensed as he could feel the floor shake below him. Coupled with the sound of footsteps, he knew that someone was approaching.

The door behind the reception opened, casting a bright white light over the room. Blinded by the sudden and abrupt glow, Norman squinted.

"Visitors?" Someone said boldly. "Now? Well," A male voice laced in a disgruntled accent bombastically bombarded the silence with a thunderous grin. "The anestesia is kicking, so to speak... I suppose I can tend to another."

As Norman adjusted to the light, he saw IF's blade completely gone. Was he imagining it in the first place?

His eyes trailed upwards, meeting the eyes of another man behind the counter.

The man, presumably the owner of this fine establishment, shook his head. Specks of red were flung from his light brown hair, and he grinned maniacally at IF. Those red specks were lost among the stains on his white lab coat, and Norman realized why the room smelled of stale blood.

"Hello-" IF started, only to get cut off by the man.

"Doctor Jim, James, or Jam, at your service." His voice dribbled in pleasantries. "Any of those names work by themselves or with others. Regulars to the clinic call me Jim-Jam. So," He paused, looking at IF eagerly. "Who's been mortally wounded?"

The Doctor peered over the counter, eyeing up Norman with a lazy gaze.

"No amputations needed on that one, but maybe a bit more meat could go on those bones..."

"We're not here for healing," IF stated firmly. "Doctor, do you know where the Town Hall is?"

"Town Hall?" He chuckled, leaning on the table. "Don't make me laugh."

"What do you mean?" Norman spoke up, drawing the attention of Doctor Jim Jam James.

"We have something like that… but I don't see why you'd need to go there."

"Why not?" Norman was getting more and more confused as James spoke.

"For starters, the only reason to visit it to to see the Sheriff. And why would you want to see him? Only the religious and the damned talk to that man, and what he says about the Holy Four is riddled in disgusting reverence. You should know this." Jim-Jam paused, squinting. "You're not from around here, are you?"

"We're here from Planeptune, and we're looking for a place to stay." Norman said casually.

The doctor said nothing and stepped back, crossing his arms. With a sigh and another look at Norman, he rubbed his chin.

"This isn't the place for city folk." The doctor replied. "We have enough problems as it is."

The floorboards groaned under Jim Jam's feet as he leaned against the wall behind him.

IF brought her hands to her sides. By the agressive look on her face, Norman could tell that something was bothering her. "Could you tell us more about the Town Hall, and how to get there?"

"Sure, I could. But time is money, and money is electricity. Right now I've only been able to light up the… operating room…" Doctor James ran a hand through his hair, and Norman noticed that he wasn't wearing gloves. "And the next shipment of batteries from the city will arrive in a week. So, it'll cost you."

He was bribing them?!

Norman was completely appalled, his eyes narrowing in disgust.

"One thousand credits."

IF blinked. One thousand credits was worth nothing for the two, and Jim Jam must've known it. Was he messing with them?

"Okay," The girl stated with her face hiding a scowl. "You've got yourself a deal. But first you need to tell us where it is."

"Really?" Jim Jam smiled fiendishly. "Two thousand credits. I do the bartering here. You have nothing I want, so I'm the one who will be making demands."

The Guild Member sighed with contempt for the doctor. "Sure, sure." IF retrieved two notes from her pocket, each one worth a thousand credits. Those were big bills to be carrying around, physical ones to boot. Norman didn't question it, and the girl handed the money to the doctor.

The doctor swept up the currency like lightning, pocketing it without a hint of emotion on his face.

"Well, now that you're speaking our language," Jim Jam bubbled with glee, hands on his hips and a grin on his face. "The Town Hall is across the street, and although it'd be best to have a talk with the sane members of this community," Jim Jam slowed down, staring at Norman with his awfully wide smile. "You'd do best to get a room at the pub. That's what all the adventurers do."

"Thanks for the information." IF said plainly, not moving her eyes from the man's own. "We'd best be on our way."

The girl took a step back, using subtle body language to order Norman to leave.

Norman was hesitant to respond, frozen in place from the heat of the moment.

"Yes! Yes," The doctor replied, once again leaning on his table. In the darkness, his face looked more foreboding than ever. "I must attend to my… patients."

Making haste, IF slammed on the door and pulled Norman behind her. Without a word of departure, the girl dragged a reluctantly skipping Norman by the forearm. With the Town Hall in her sights, she pulled him onto the street with ease.

"Geez!" Norman Dunn shouted, coughing and nearly stumbling over as IF released his arm. As they were standing in the middle of the road, Norman hoped no one saw how pathetic he looked. "What was that about?"

IF forcefully faced Norman. With the sun directly above them, the girl's face glowed with emotion.

"Did you see that man?"

"Yeah, I did." Norman said firmly, wiping his hands on his shirt. "What's the big idea?"

"You heard what he said?"

"...Where are you going with this?"

Flabbergasted, IF continued. "No electricity, bribes, a religious sheriff… not to mention the state of that clinic. Did he say he was performing a surgery in there?"

"I think so." Norman replied casually.

"Where the hell did that guy get his medical license? There's no way in hell he was educated in Planeptune."

IF's voice brimmed with what was seen to Norman as anger. Truth be told, IF wasn't all that upset that the doctor was violating many safety standards and probably doing more harm than good. She was upset that he, a man, held the title of doctor while her friend, Compa, did not. Not to mention, men weren't supposed to have jobs in the medical field. After all, their fingers were too big and clumsy to handle sensitive equipment.

Plus, a guy in law enforcement? Everyone knew that men were unreliable and violent. In the days of old, when men were still allowed to be police officers, the headlines spoke of shootings, perversion and chaos. It was a good thing that Neptune passed that law, but it looked like its influence had yet to reach Wel Zelevas.

She didn't say anything explicitly, as she knew that'd be awkward and just plain inappropriate, but something about her voice told Norman that she was seething with bitterness.

"He didn't seem very professional…" Norman conceded with a sigh. "But it didn't look like he was working with much over there."

"Yeah. Unprofessionalism at it's finest." IF huffed, glancing back at the clinic before stepping towards the Town Hall. The image of the Red Crystal stung in her mind. She didn't think such a stupid clinic could get her so riled up, and yet it did. What was up with her today? She could've sworn she had enough sleep last night.

"No need to get so angry…" Norman cooed softly as he followed close behind, hands extended.

From out of the corners of her eyes, IF shot him a glare. Shrugging with furrowed eyebrows, she trudged onwards.

As the doctor said, the mayor and her staff should be the sane ones here. IF couldn't wait to hear what she had to say.

"Let's just keep moving."

* * *

In the skies above the Planeptune-Lowee border, a streak of cyan blue shot past the sun. Tearing up clouds in its wake, the tip of the streak looked down at the ground.

Although Blanc, in her HDD form, was speeding over the world at the speed of sound, the forests and mountains appeared to pass by at a snail's pace.

As snow-capped summits passed beneath her feet, the Goddess's eyes were wide, wonderstruck by the wide expanse of the wild landscape below.

She brought her eyes to the horizon, and although she could see for miles without end, the skyline of Planeptune's capital had yet to crest the world's edge. With the sun inching towards Planeptune's west coast, shadows of trees and hillsides draped like curtains over shimmering lakes.

Blanc sighed, oblivious to the voracious wind whipping at her light blue hair.

She closed her eyes, knowing she was safe in the air.

In the back of her mind, Blanc didn't want to admit how badly she was affected by the things in her head. She was always the silent one, the person to shrug off the feelings and remain indifferent for everyone around her. She was the only one who would stay calm, well, for the most part, while everything went to shit with all the small stuff.

But this was different. At least, she swore it was different.

To have all this inside her… she knew that flashbacks weren't normal. Maybe she should see a therapist. Maybe Mina was right, and she was too stubborn to accept it. Writing about it… that was an outlet that no one would ever get to see.

So... why was she going to Planeptune?

The only people there were Neptune and Nepgear, although Blanc enjoyed the company of Histoire now and then. At least Histy, as the Goddess of Planeptune called her, didn't hate on her writing.

Maybe she could invite some of the others to Planeptune, maybe they could have fun. Just like old times.

It's been a while since they last assembled, and the last time left a sour taste in her mouth. Literally. Neptune had tried to make pudding by herself, and she added far too much lime flavoring to the mix. It turned out really, really sour, and in the end everyone had to wash out their mouths with water.

Blanc smiled at the memory. Even though the pudding turned out bad, the times they shared together were always fun. Of course, she'd never admit that in person… or at least out loud.

With a mental nod, the Goddess of Lowee decided she would give Noire and Vert a call. Maybe they'd be willing to spend time in Planeptune as well.

The very thought flushed away the terrible memories of the past, leaving nothing but anticipation for the future.

And she was happy.

* * *

As a frugal building indistinguishable from the others in town, the Town Hall certainly didn't look the part.

The duo entered one after another, with IF holding the door open for Norman.

Coming to a clean, however, cramped lobby was relieving for them. The ceiling was much too low for Norman's tastes, and the furniture felt too rustic. But then again, what was he expecting from such a desecrated place?

Old windows let in a refreshing natural light, illuminating the oak-smelling interior.

Coming up to a desk, IF sighed.

There was someone attending to the reception area, but the man, as it was, was sleeping.

With a broad-brimmed hat over his eyes, there was no way that he could see the Guild Member.

IF snapped her fingers, jolting the man awake. Startled, he fumbled for a revolver in a chest holster.

"Oh…" He started, easing his grip on the sidearm. "Hello there."

With the hat no longer covering his face, he brought his other hand to rub his short stubble. After a sigh, he shifted in his seat, bringing both hands to rest on the table.

"Can I help you?" He asked, more cordially then Norman expected.

"Yeah," IF started, mind set on her duty. "We were hoping to see the mayor. Is she in?"

Blinking, he took a moment to respond. "Yeah, he's in the other room. Not sure what he's up to, but just walk on in." He pointed at a door to the side. "By the way, you guys new here?"

Norman slowly nodded, giving the man a grim smile. He felt too tired to be excited, especially with that creepy doctor from earlier.

"Ah," The man began enthusiastically. "Name's Tainted, I'm the town Sheriff. If you're thinking of moving in, you've come to the right place. We're always welcoming people in need."

"Thanks…" IF acknowledged, making her way to the door. She shot Norman a look that shouted worry, uncertainty and uncomfort, then placed a hand on the doorknob.

Norman followed her to the door, but before they entered, Tainted, the Sheriff, called out to them.

"If you need anything at all, just ask!"

The Phone Operator smiled in return, then entered the Mayor's room.

* * *

 **Things are going gooood but I have no Wi-Fi and am on mobile eeeeeee**

 **I'd write more but no computer eeeeeee**

 **Thanks for reading, and if you liked it, drop something nice!**


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